Not With Haste
by Red Nevada Rose
Summary: Clara Reynolds boards with her aunt, the Unsinkable Molly Brown, in hopes of starting a career as a reporter in New York. She frequents the lower docks for inspiration for her writing. Eager to learn about a world different than hers, she befriends a charming Irishman along the way.
1. Chapter 1

The docks milled about with people- poor, rich, foreign, local, women, children, men- and even some pets. Crates, cars and luggage added to the mess as passengers tried to make sense of the chaos.

Clara Reynolds sat in the cab of the car, watching the scene outside and scribbling notes into the journal on her lap. A stray blonde hair fell from its updo and hung in front of her face, only to be tucked behind her ear.

The car door opened quickly and the gray-haired driver offered a hand to help her out. "The luggage is all unloaded and ready to board, miss. Your aunt is waiting for you."

Clara graciously accepted his hand and stepped out of the car, fixing her hat when two feet were on the ground. A shadow loomed above; Clara looked up to see the _RMS Titanic_ itself standing over her. She inspected the ship. The four smoke stacks were already billowing with gray clouds, ready to get a move on. Its sides were composed of steel from Reynolds Steel Incorporated. Despite the family obligation, Clara found the ship rather ugly. _Titanic_ was painted a dismal black, white and red.

"Well ain't this a fine specimen?"

Clara turned to see her aunt, Molly Brown, join her. Clara snorted, "I wouldn't exactly say fine. Or specimen."

Molly laughed, "Not with that writer's mind you wouldn't. You'd come up with something better. Don't be too cynical now. If your parents catch on, they'll say you spend too much time with me."

Clara smiled, finally lightening up, "I could never spend too much time with you."

In fact, they had only spent a few days together. Molly had been vacationing across Europe when she caught word of her niece's boarding school dismissing early for the summer. She insisted on taking Clara back to Philadelphia to return to her parents.

 _That's what they think_ , Clara thought, clutching her journal to her chest. She planned on ditching the train ride from New York to Philadelphia and instead pursue a career as a reporter. Female reporters were slowly gaining more traction in the newspaper world, and Clara was anxious to join them.

Somewhere on the vast ship, a horn signaled an hour left before departure. Clara and Molly hurried onto _Titanic_ , straight past the health inspector where the last leg of third class was standing.

* * *

Molly and Clara's staterooms were located on the starboard side of the ship, with windows looking out to the docks below. Clara stood by the window and she could perfectly see the second and third class decks. She took notes, observing the children kicking around a cloth ball, women holding babies and sitting on benches, and men smoking fat cigars.

"You'll have a better view if you go outside," Molly said from the doorway. "What're you writing down anyway?"

Clara closed her notebook mid-sentence. "Nothing."

Molly made an unconvinced hum. "You unpack. I've got to go figure out a luggage issue."

"We don't have all our things?"

"No, all of ours are here. But a bag that isn't ours was delivered." Molly nodded toward the bag in question.

"What's the name?"

"Can't read it."

Clara inspected the tag. The handwritten name was sloppy and smudged, but she could sort of make it out. "Something Ryan. Looks like Reynolds. That must've been the mix up." By the looks of the bag- dirty and weather-worn- it definitely didn't belong in first class. Clara's face lit up. "I'll return it."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "You know this something Ryan?"

"No… but I want to explore the ship. Didn't you say I should go outside?"

Molly gave in. "All right. But we have lunch with the Dewitt-Bukaters a half hour after we depart. Be back by then."

"Rose is here?"

Molly nodded, smiling as Clara squealed at the thought of seeing her childhood friend.

* * *

Clara weaved through people as she tried to find the owner of the bag. She ruled out first class as an option and headed straight for the lower decks. Odd looks were thrown her way as she made her way through the halls. Not that she couldn't see why, being a well-dressed woman carrying a ratty bag, but she did her best move quickly.

Clara was used to being the recipient of judgmental looks anyway. She was a young and healthy eighteen-year-old woman, came from a wealthy family and had a proper education, so why wasn't she married? There must be something wrong with her. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty; "the blondes go first," her mother used to say. Instead of waiting around for a suitor to find her, she convinced her parents to send her to boarding school in England where she could "really learn to become a lady and a wife." When really, Clara just wanted a chance to see more than what Pennsylvania could offer. Clara had met quite a few charming European men while abroad, but nothing equated to more than a few outings, chaste kisses and flirtatious looks across the room.

The officers in second class were polite enough to check their passenger list. No Ryan there. Clara sighed, third class it was, and she made her way down to F and G Decks.

If she didn't stand out in first class, she was a sore thumb in third. Eyebrows raised and comments were whispered.

 _Here goes nothing_ , she thought as she tapped a man's shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. Can you-"

The man interrupted her in quick Italian and Clara realized he couldn't understand her. And vice versa. Her cheeks flared red and she looked around. She couldn't tell who did or didn't speak English. _Not the best idea_ , she thought.

"Need help, lass?" someone from behind asked.

Clara turned to see a man raising an eyebrow. He wore a bowler hat on a head of brown curls and a cigarette flicked between his lips.

"You speak English?"

"With a hint of Irish." He smiled and sure enough, spoke in a thick Irish accent.

Clara sighed in relief, "Thank goodness. A bag was delivered to my room and it isn't mine."

"Happy to help, lass." He stretched a hand out. "Tommy Ryan."

Clara's eyes widened. "It's you!" Tommy gave her a weird look and she shook her head. "Sorry. I mean," Clara quickly shook his hand, "Clara Reynolds."

Tommy squeezed her hand. "What did you say before?"

"I just meant, it's you. On the tag." She motioned toward the luggage.

Tommy raised an eyebrow and looked at the tag. "No kidding. Didn't even realize I lost my only thing."

"You don't have another suitcase?"

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Is it obvious?"

Tommy and Clara exchanged a smile. A horn blasted from a deck above them. Clara took that as the signal for lunch. "I should go."

Tommy nodded. "Thanks for returning my bag. Have a good sail, Clara."

"You too." Clara smiled, politely excusing herself and heading back to her deck. She made careful note on how to get back down, though. There was too much on the lower decks not to write about.

Tommy watched Clara go. He tried not to be too disappointed in realizing he'd likely never see her again. She had one reason for coming down to the lower decks, and now that it was taken care of she was probably returning to her fiance, laughing about how he only had one piece of luggage and he was an _Irishman_ for goodness' sake. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette. At least he could take comfort in knowing her fiance wouldn't have been bothered to look through his third class clothing. Tommy sighed, wishing her well.

* * *

Clara hurried back to the A Deck, debating with herself if she ought to change before lunch. She was already late, but changing would delay her even more. Plus Molly had told her specifically to be on time. Clara looked down at her outfit; it was the same thing she'd been wearing all day while traveling. It was a pretty dress, though, and she hadn't mussed it up too badly. Yet. She decided to continue for the dining room.

Fortunately, it seemed that Molly had just met up with the Ruth and Rose Dewitt-Bukater, so Clara's tardiness was hardly noticed. She caught Rose's eyes and the two young women rushed to hug each other. It had been, what, five years since the two had spent time together? While they had brief passings at various galas and fundraisers back home, all too soon Clara moved abroad and suddenly the communication ceased.

"How was your time at school? I'm sure it was wonderful getting a chance to learn away from home," Rose asked.

"It was magnificent! I hadn't realized the history behind it before I got there. It's where the royal family has sent all their daughters before getting married."

The conversation felt fake for what they used to talk about. Clara knew Rose would much rather talk philosophy, literature and art, as would she. But Ruth's careful gaze on the two of them forced them into small talk.

Ruth smirked at Clara. "And is it royal fashion now to wear travel attire while dining?"

"Mother," Rose warned.

Clara ignored the comment and turned the conversation to Rose. "I hear you're engaged now. Who's the unfortunate soul who has to keep up with you?"

Rose stiffened for a moment then forced enthusiasm, "Oh you'll never believe it. Caledon Hockley."

Clara studied Rose's face, trying to find the appropriate response. Cal's father, like Clara's, was a steel industry giant and the two families had known each other for years. They kept up niceties as best as two competing families could. Clara despised Cal, but marrying into his family was a good move for Rose. "Well best wishes to you two."

As if summoning him from the devil himself, Cal arrived and offered an arm to escort Rose. He noticed Clara and gave her a stiff nod. "Ms. Reynolds, I had no idea you would be joining us on this journey."

"Likewise to you. I was just congratulating Rose on your engagement. I'm sure the wedding will be the finest event New York has yet to see." Cal was already walking away with Rose in tow before Clara could finish. Clara glared at the back of his head. The exchange lasted almost as long as the one with Tommy Ryan, and Clara already liked Tommy more than Cal. But that wasn't a difficult feat to master.

Molly nudged Clara and the two of them followed along to their table. They sat with Ruth, Rose and Cal, as well as two other men who had a hand in building the ship, Bruce Ismay and Thomas Andrews. Both men worked closely with Clara's father, so the connection was a nice break from the tension between Rose and her family. The conversation buzzed around the mechanics behind Titanic, all things Clara had heard before. She let her eyes wander the dining room, taking in the fine details of the chandeliers and crown moulding. She caught Ruth's eye, silently lecturing her about tuning out the conversation. Clara fought to roll her eyes. Ruth wasn't her mother. If anyone was out of place it was Molly, having yet to fully understand the subtle dynamics of first class society.

Clara paid minimal attention to the conversation. A waiter came around to take orders, and it was hard to ignore the sour look Rose gave Cal as he ordered for her. Molly moved the conversation back toward the ship, and Ismay explained the reasoning for the name Titanic.

Rose raised an eyebrow, "Are you familiar with Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you."

Clara coughed into her napkin to hide her laughter. Molly and Mr. Andrews also tried hiding smiles, while Cal and Ruth looked at Rose in horror.

"My God, Rose. What's gotten into you?" Ruth asked.

"Excuse me." Rose abruptly stood up and walked out of the dining room. The table fell awkwardly silent and those at other tables turned to watch her leave. Molly chortled and made a comment about Cal's control over his fiancee. Clara smirked, knowing how little he knew about Rose's spirit.

Clara blotted the corners of her mouth with her napkin and excused herself from the table. Ruth was clearly horrified that she was also leaving until Clara clarified she was checking on Rose.

The first class deck was fairly empty, so Rose was fairly easy to spot leaning against the railing looking over the lower decks.

Clara placed a hand on Rose's shoulder, causing her to jump. She turned with her jaw set, ready for an argument, but she relaxed upon realizing it was Clara. "I thought you were Cal."

"I'll try not to take offense to that."

Rose laughed. "It's good to have a friend here." Clara was positive it was the first time Rose had genuinely smiled while on the ship.

"You mind telling me why you ran out?" Clara asked.

The smile disappeared. "I can't take it, Clara. He's awful. You already know that. But he treats me like I'm his freshly caught game, showing off his trophy to the rest of the world. I can't do it."

Clara nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. She stole a glance at Rose. Everything about her was so… _firm_. You could see the sadness in her eyes and the rigid anger in her jaw. "Well I know something you _can_ do." She paused, waiting for a sign to continue. The corner of Rose's mouth twitched upward, and Clara remembered making up stories as a child and telling them to Rose excitedly. She wondered if Rose was thinking that, too. "You can enjoy the time you have unmarried on this ship. I'll help you. It'll be like old times except now we have new places to hide."

"Until my mother finds us and forbids us spend time alone."

"Your mother hates me."

Rose rolled her eyes. "She only hates you because I like you."

The two women burst out laughing. Clara glanced at the decks below. A blond boy sat on a bench with two other men. His friends spoke to each other while he looked up at Clara and, more specifically, Rose. Their laughter must have caught his attention.

"And maybe you'll find someone more worth your while." Clara nudged Rose and gestured to the boy. "Someone like him."

As Rose turned to see him, the other two men looked at the women, too. Rose shook her head. "I could never do that, Clara."

"Why not? What's the difference between a third class fellow and a rat like Cal?" Rose gave Clara a dirty look and ignored the comment. Clara looked back at the men and recognized one of the other two as Tommy Ryan from earlier. He caught her eye and tipped his hat in response. Clara waved back as subtly as she could, but nothing got past Rose.

"Do you know him?" Rose asked.

Clara racked her brain for an explanation. It was embarrassing that Clara went down to the lower decks and although Rose would understand the situation, word would get out and rumors would start. "No… just… I guess they saw us looking at them."

They heard footsteps approaching and glanced back to see Cal. "Oh God," Rose mumbled before remorsefully letting Cal steer her back inside.

Clara made a move to follow, but not before looking back to the lower decks. Tommy grinned, lopsided from trying to keep his cigarette in his mouth. Clara smiled back before walking away. She thinks of her next chance to escape to the lower decks and write, maybe running into a certain Irishman while at it.

* * *

 **A/N: After a looooong time away from dear old FF, I'm back. I recently moved and in that process found a handful of notebooks where I wrote all kinds of scenes for this story and others, so on a quick burst of inspiration I decided to sit down and actually write something. This is my first Titanic story, and I've tweaked the timeline just a bit for the first day. I didn't realize until today that the lunch where Rose and Jack first see each other took place on the second day and I had already written all of this. For the sake of not altering it too much, I kept it as is. I also won't write Tommy's accent. It just gets too hard to keep up with and I'm sure you all can hear it in your head anyway. Hope you enjoy and hopefully this kick of inspiration stays with me for more than just this first chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

Clara flipped to her side for what seemed like the hundredth time. She'd already turned her pillows to the cool side and counted sheep, but nothing was working. Sleep was either late or not coming at all. The heavy curtains blocked out every inch of moonlight, covering the room in darkness. Clara sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to sleep. Slipping out of the almost too-soft bed, she peeled the curtains back.

The moon looked magnificent against the dark sky with a mirror image shown in the sea below. She placed a hand on the window, feeling the cool glass. The middle of spring in the northern Atlantic meant that once the sun went down, so did the temperature. She returned to her bed, this time grabbing her journal and turning a lamp on.

 _Day One_ , she wrote. She paused, trying to remember every detail she observed of the day. She glanced at the window.

 _No use staying in here_ , she thought. Clara headed for the door, grabbing her robe and slippers on the way.

The hallway was silent but fully lit. Clara took pleasure in the privacy. She assumed it had to be well after midnight by now, and what notable first-class passenger would be up at such an ungodly hour? She turned corners and walked through various hallways, finding her way to the outdoor promenade.

The cold Atlantic air hit her immediately, causing her cheeks to flush. However, the air refreshed her from the stuffy rooms she'd been in all evening. Still traveling aimlessly, Clara was approaching two officers on night duty. They tipped their hats and she smiled politely.

"Miss?" one stopped her.

"Yes?"

"I reckon you get inside, miss. It's rather cold and the decks are slippery. One girl almost fell off the ship earlier."

Clara nodded. "Of course. Thank you, sirs. I'll head back now."

Satisfied, they continued on their path. Clara waited for them to turn the corner and continued on her own route. _I doubt anyone's watching the lower decks_ , she thought devilishly and set out for the nearest stairs.

Just like her deck, this one was empty and had more of a chill being closer to the water. She pulled her robe closer to her chest; the silk was warm enough for indoors, but out here it practically did nothing. But Clara still found peace on a bench. She pulled her knees to her chest for a makeshift writing desk. She quickly became invested in musing of the day's events and whatever else came to mind.

"I don't reckon you have much light to write with."

Clara yelped at the sudden voice behind her. She turned to see Tommy Ryan smiling at her. He looked apologetic for surprising her. She replied smoothly, "The moon's bright enough. I know what I'm doing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Smart woman you are then."

"Thank you, Mr. Ryan," she said, avoiding eye contact. She had been called smart before, but never in the appraising way he said it.

"Call me Tommy."

"Thank you, Tommy." She looked up and made eye contact. His brown eyes shined bright in the moonlight.

"So why are you out here at this time of night? Shouldn't you be getting your beauty rest?"

"You sure are forward."

"And truthful. You didn't answer my question."

Clara shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I've never been able to fall asleep quickly in a new bed. What about you?"

"The room shakes with every snore of the other blokes there. Plus it smells like a goat's arse." He crinkled his nose nose to emphasize the smell, making her laugh.

"Well I've never had the pleasure of experiencing that firsthand, so I'll take your word for it."

Tommy smiled and Clara noticed heavy dimples set on either side of his mouth. "Thank you again for returning my bag," he said.

"What good would a man's suitcase do for me?" Clara asked.

"I'll have you know," Tommy winked, "that my personals are very popular among the ladies."

Clara blushed at the sudden intimacy. She patted the empty spot next to her, and Tommy gladly took the offer. "So why are you here?"

"Told you. The goat's arse."

"Not here, here," Clara said and spread her arms wide. "Here, the grand _Titanic_."

Tommy sighed, "Ireland served nothing for me. Family farm went broke and my parents both died not too long ago."

Clara felt motified, intruding on a practical stranger's personal life. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

He sensed her guilt and gave her arm a reaffirming squeeze. "No worries. I knew it would happen eventually. They were getting old and couldn't take care of the land much longer. My older sister moved away with her husband and I couldn't keep up with the work by myself."

Clara nodded slowly, sympathizing for his situation. She couldn't imagine what her family would do if her father's business ever failed. Clara had always been aware of her fortunate position and took comfort in it, but she'd never really understood the differences between her world and others.

Tommy couldn't help but stare. She was pretty, simply put. Her blonde hair fell down her back in long tangles, relaxing from being pinned up all day. Her blue eyes were lost in thought, but they had a brightness to them that drew Tommy in. He kept his eyes averted from the rest of her, but her lack of anything warmer than a silk robe concerned him. He shrugged out of his coat and held it out. When she tried to deny it, he shook his head. "I insist. Not letting you catch the flu out here."

"But _your_ health-"

"I'm sturdy enough," he interrupted.

She draped it around her shoulders. "Thank you. This actually feels much better already."

"And why are you on the ship?" he asked.

"I'm heading home. Just finished school in England."

Tommy pressed for more information. "And what awaits you back home?"

Clara shrugged. "I have yet to find out."

As broad of an answer it was, Tommy knew she'd have mentioned a wedding or fiance if there was one in the picture. He noticed the journal on her lap. "What are you writing?"

She put a hand on it protectively. She wasn't afraid to let people know she liked to write, but it was the response to her career aspirations that worried her. "Nothing important. I just like to write about my days."

"Anything exciting happen recently?"

Clara laughed, looking at him. "To be honest, delivering your luggage has been the most exciting thing since boarding."

Tommy removed his hat and held it to his heart, feigning smugness. "Glad to be of service. Do you write every day?"

"Oh yes. I'd write every minute if I could. But it's hard to find privacy sometimes. Either I'll be pulled away or someone I know will interrupt."

Tommy thought for a second before venturing forward. "You could come down here and write. I'd take a good gamble and say that I'm the only one down here you know. No one would bother you."

"I might just have to take you up on that," Clara smiled at him. "And for the record, I wouldn't mind you sitting with me. It's nice to have a friend."

Tommy returned the smile. "Sounds like a plan."

Clara stifled a yawn. "I should probably go back inside. I think I might actually sleep this time."

Tommy nodded and stood up, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it and he walked her to the nearest gate. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Clara nodded, "I'll try to get away as soon as I can. But I don't want you to feel like you must wait around for me."

"Chances are, lass, that I'd wait around for you even if you never came," he said. She blushed at his forwardness. It was nothing she hadn't experienced before, but here it was different. When men came onto her at school, they were usually of the same social order and no one would bat an eye. Here their backgrounds couldn't be further apart. Nevertheless, she didn't see any harm in shameless flirting.

Clara crossed to the other side of the gate and turned to face him. She leaned forward. "Then I better not keep you waiting too long."

Tommy winked. "G'night, Clara."

"Goodnight, Tommy," she said before walking away.

Tommy felt immensely better watching her leave this time rather than when they first met. She kept up with their conversation and seemed interested in him past shallow politeness. Plus, now he knew she didn't have another man waiting on her in first class.

Clara beamed the whole walk back to her stateroom. Tommy impressed her unlike any man she'd ever met. She found herself hoping he didn't have a wife or a woman of a similar nature. _Only because then this thing would be inappropriate_ , she told herself. She knew she didn't totally believe that, but it was what she'd think for now.

She hung his coat up alongside her robe in her wardrobe, feeling sorry that she hadn't thought to give it back. Indulging in her simple curiosity, she leaned into the coat. _Tobacco_ , she thought and remembered the cigarettes she'd seen him with earlier in the day. Usually she hated the smell, but this time it wasn't so bad.


	3. Chapter 3

"All right! Up and at 'em, sugar!" Molly bellowed as she entered Clara's room. Clara rolled over in her bed, covering her head with her pillow. She felt like she got hardly any sleep. She'd be sleepy all day. Light suddenly streamed into the bedroom as Molly pulled open the curtains. Clara let out a moan. Molly clicked her tongue. "Oh come on now. You don't want to waste a day in bed. Before you know it, we'll be in New York and you'll miss running around this ship."

 _If only you knew…_ Clara thought, thinking how she'd been on the lower decks twice already. Combine that with staying on the first class decks, she had likely seen more than most of the passengers ever would. Suddenly the pillow was lifted off her head, revealing Molly smiling down at her. Her bright red hair had yet to be pinned, so it looked like a wildfire on top of her head. She was already dressed though, much farther along than Clara. Clara gave her a sleepy smile and stretched. "All right, I'm up. I'll get ready."

"Atta girl," Molly smiled. "I'll send in Mary to lace you up." And with that, she took off toward her wing of the suite. Clara sighed and sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She looked around the room. The bed was against a wall, with a small table and two chairs in the center of the room. A dressing screen blocked off the corner next to the wardrobe. A vanity with a water basin sat next to the window. Her bedroom door led out into the main area of the suite that connected with Molly's room, their shared water closet and the door to the hall. It was a rather impressive suite room for one person. She thought back to Tommy's comment on his roommates and felt a small pang of guilt that he and other passengers shared small, crowded rooms.

Clara pinned up her hair at her vanity while she waited for Mary to arrive. She settled upon an easy braid that she then twisted around itself at the nape of her neck. Mary came in then, and Clara gave her a smile through the mirror, still concentrating on her hair. Mary shuffled through the wardrobe.

"Miss?" Mary asked. "What's this?"

Clara looked up to see Mary holding Tommy's coat. She'd completely forgotten about it until now. She slightly panicked. There wasn't a good reason for the coat. "Oh, um. Nothing for you to worry about." It was true- Mary wouldn't mention it to anyone. Had it been anyone else who might've pushed the point, Clara would've thought of a better excuse.

Mary nodded and put the coat back. She pulled a light peach dress and held it out for Clara's approval. Normally Clara was a fan of pastel colors, but she still had a plan to write on the lower decks. She didn't want to stand out in any way. Clara shook her head, "Something more muted."

The next choice was a dark purple with a square neckline and lace at the cuffs. It was pretty, but not as flashy as some of her other ensembles. She nodded and helped Mary lay out the dress, petticoats and corset.

Clara met Molly in the main area of their suite. There was a large table and four chairs in the middle of the room, similar to Clara's, and a chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. No natural light came in since their bedrooms were on the exterior wall of the ship, but the fire and lamps lit the room well. Breakfast was already plated on the table where Molly sat, and a cart with even more pastries and coffee sat nearby. Clara joined Molly and dug into the food waiting for her. She quickly ran through her first cup of coffee. Molly eyed her as she refilled her cup.

"Catch any sleep last night?" Molly asked.

Clara shook her head. "I always have such trouble sleeping in new places. It was almost two weeks before I could get a full night's rest when I first arrived at school."

Molly nodded. "What are your plans today?"

"I think I'll write." Clara paused. She didn't want to lie to Molly, but going too much into detail might be the start of a never ending list of questions. She focused on her plate, not making eye contact. "Maybe head down to E Deck?"

Molly's eyebrow raised. "Really? What on Earth is down there that interests you?"

Clara shrugged. "Figured if I don't want to be disturbed, I ought to find a place where no one knows me. Too many people up here will stop to ask about Father and his business, or even ask about the suitors waiting to meet me," she added sarcastically.

Molly laughed. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that man whose luggage you returned?"

Clara gave her a look, playing coy. "Oh please, Aunt Molly. That was a less than five minute interaction."

Molly nodded and moved on. Clara knew Molly wouldn't mind knowing that Clara was keen on meeting Tommy again, considering how Molly wasn't native to first class and didn't have the attitude that others would against Tommy's class. But she also knew that Molly sometimes couldn't control her filter and word would likely get out.

"Care to know the latest gossip?" Molly asked, proving her lack of a filter.

Clara laughed, "All right."

"Word is that Rose slipped off the back of the ship last night. By some fortunate fate, a man was nearby and grabbed her in time."

"Oh my goodness! Is she hurt?"

"Just shaken up. She's taking the day to herself in her room. But I'm sure it's a timely excuse to escape Ruth and Cal."

Clara rolled her eyes. "They're dreadful, aren't they? I warned you about them."

Molly nodded. "Let's just hope for Rose's sake that she's not stuck with them forever." Clara had to agree.

Clara finished breakfast as fast as she could without seeming off. She waited for Molly to retreat back into her room before leaving, grabbing her notebook and Tommy's coat on the way. By now the path to E Deck was becoming familiar. Clara gave polite nods and smiles to those she passed, acting confident in what she was doing. No one stopped her.

There were already people strewn about E Deck. Children sat sleepily on their mother's laps, sometimes nodding off in the morning sun. Older boys kicked a ball back and forth and used some misplaced broomsticks as goal posts. Clara spotted the blond boy who sat with Tommy and couldn't take his eyes off Rose the afternoon before. He sat by himself but drew in his sketchbook, tracing the image of older men standing and smoking together. Perhaps if she got the chance, she'd introduce herself. Speaking of Tommy, he was nowhere to be found. Clara shrugged it off. She wasn't relying on him to be on her clock.

 _Chances are, lass, that I'd wait around for you even if you never came_ , Clara remembered Tommy's words from last night with a smile. _He'll show up eventually_ , she thought. She found an empty bench behind a stairwell, still with a good view of plenty of activity. She did her best to follow the ballgame the boys were playing and take notes on it. She was never the best at understanding these things, but she had attended a handful of rugby matches at school. Of course, most of that time was spent with the other young women and not paying attention. Still, she felt like the commentators at those matches.

A couple of the boys seemed to know what they were doing, and the others just played along for the fun of it. One scored a goal and his team cheered, lifting him up on their shoulders. Clara laughed at their delight. She was sure this activity wouldn't happen on her deck, and she was grateful she made the decision to come down to where she was.

"Well that laugh is a great way to start the day." Clara looked up to see Tommy smiling down at her. "Morning," he said.

"Good morning," she patted the seat next to her.

He took it and glanced at her notebook. "Anything exciting happen this morning?"

Clara gestured to the boys. "These athletes are on their way to Olympus soon enough. I'm hoping to be their primary correspondent for their fame."

Tommy chuckled, "Beautiful, smart _and_ funny. I knew you were a good one."

Clara looked down, already feeling the blush trickle in. Tommy knew how to charm and he didn't seem to be ashamed of it. "How was the rest of your night?"

He shrugged. "Didn't head back right away after you left. Actually fell asleep on the bench 'til an officer woke me. Apparently there was an incident a few hours earlier, and they wanted to clear the deck of any other rats who might try something."

"Did it include a woman from first class?" Clara asked hesitantly.

Tommy nodded. "How'd you know?"

"My aunt told me this morning. Word spreads quickly on a ship."

"I know the bloke who pulled her back." Tommy gestured toward the blond artist that Clara recognized earlier. "Name's Jack. Only seen her twice and he can't stop thinking about her."

"Funny that you know him. I know the woman. We were friends throughout childhood."

"Small world."

"Big ship," Clara added, causing Tommy to laugh.

"And how was your night, lass? Did you finally catch the sleep you were looking for?"

"Fortunately. Until my aunt came in this morning with everything but a street parade behind her. But I wouldn't put that past her in the future."

"Are you here with just your aunt?"

Clara nodded. "It's been lovely to catch up with her. She doesn't quite mold with the expectations set for her. She's loud and obnoxious and it's an absolute thrill to be with her."

"I'm glad you're having a good time," Tommy smiled. "Why do you like to get away so much then?"

She shrugged. "I don't fit in all that well, either. I think that's why I get along with my aunt so well. We're misfits."

"How's that?"

"I come from a good family and have a good education. And yet, I'm unmarried. It's quite the scandal."

"Why aren't you married yet?"

Clara shot him a look. "What kind of a question is that?"

"Sorry… It's just, I wouldn't have thought you'd have a hard time with that. Like I said, you're beautiful and smart... if I can be so forward."

She almost laughed at his self-awareness, but she was too focused on her own. "Go on," she reluctantly said.

"So why are you avoid getting married?" Tommy asked.

Clara wanted to argue that it wasn't completely her fault that she wasn't married. It took two to be a couple. But she gave in. "Men don't like a wife who writes and outsmarts them. And I don't like a man who thinks he's better than me." If Tommy wanted brutal answers, he'd get them.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you're spending so much time with me?"

Clara immediately wanted to take back what she said. She gave him a fearful look but relaxed when she saw him smiling. "I don't think less of you. You… you understand me. I'm comfortable with you." There was a silence as Tommy took in Clara's words. _Time to even the score._ "So why aren't you married?"

"Ha! So now it's become a total marriage consultation."

"You brought it up!"

He held up his hands in defeat. "I know, I know." He dropped his hands in his lap then, looking dejected. "The farm went under, so I figured I'd become a fisherman. It's what my father was before he married my mother. I thought maybe it'd be in my blood. Anyway, no one wants to marry a failed farmer or a fisherman who can't come home every night."

"But it worked out for your father," Clara pointed out. "How'd that happen?"

"You miss nothing, Clara," Tommy smiled. "My mother was the most understanding woman I know. It didn't matter if she disagreed with you about everything. If you had a problem, she'd believe you were upset and did her best to solve it. She met my father, and he didn't think for a second she'd want to stay with him. The last thing he wanted was to build a life together only to come home one day and realize she had moved on. She promised to keep a candle lit when he was gone, and that candle meant she still loved him and waited for him to return. If the candle was out, he'd know to go back to sea."

Tommy paused, glancing at Clara. She was enraptured with the story. "The candle never went out."

Clara let out a breath she hadn't realized she held. A lump formed in her throat. "Oh, Tommy. That's beautiful… sounds straight from a storybook."

He nodded slowly. "Forty years they were married. Until they passed in their sleep together, of course. They always made the most of their time together. Never fretting about the past or future. They knew to be urgent, but not hasteful." Clara focused on her feet, avoiding all kinds of eye contact. She wanted to cry at his story, but she had no idea how he'd react. Tommy sensed her discomfort and patted her on the back. "How about I shut up and let you write? Isn't that what you came down here for?"

Clara smiled and gave a small nod. The two fell into silence as she picked up where she left off. The boys were well done with their ballgame by now and she hadn't seen the end of it, so she found a new subject in Jack on the other side of the deck. His intense focus on his drawings drew her in. She made a small note of the two of them swept up in their pastimes.

Tommy sat quietly, content in letting her get lost in her notebook. It might have only been because of the romantic story he just told- he'd never know- but he let himself get lost in watching Clara. He finally spotted his coat sitting between them and felt touched that she had remembered to return it. Tommy slipped it on, thankful for the protection. It might have been midday in the sun, but the early spring Atlantic air was still bitter. He quietly left to fetch refreshments for the two of them and returned with two mugs of Irish breakfast tea. Clara gladly accepted her mug.

"I've never had this kind before," she said once he told her what was in it.

"You'll like it. Anything Irish is good for you."

Once again they fell back into sharing silence. And for the first time in a while, they both felt at peace.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who have reviewed, followed and favorited! It really means a lot to know you're waiting on this story. If you wouldn't mind, leave a review. I'd love to know your thoughts and perhaps where I could improve on character/plot development? Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

Clara stayed with Tommy well past the lunch hour. She knew Molly wouldn't be too worried about her since she knew where she was, so she didn't mind spending the better part of the day with her newfound friend. Tommy told her countless stories of tales his father would recall from his fisherman days. With his permission, she wrote down as many details as she could. She was still fascinated with the story of his parents, but she didn't push for that personal information.

"Do you hope to be a fisherman in America?" she asked.

Tommy flicked the ashes of his cigarette. "That's the plan for now, at least. I hear the lobster in New England is popular. 'Course, I probably couldn't even get my hands on one to eat."

"Is fishing a good business?"

"All depends on where, what and when you're catching." He watched as she wrote down his answer. "How do I know you're not just gathering all this information for more deviant purposes?"

"You don't." Clara smiled playfully and wiggled her eyebrows.

Tommy laughed and looked out at the deck. "Look's like Jackie's needing a new subject." Clara followed his gaze and saw Jack blow away dust from his sketchbook and glance around. Tommy whistled and waved his arm, "Oi, Jack!"

Jack saw Tommy and waved. He packed up his things and joined them. He spotted Clara and held out a hand. "I'm Jack."

Clara shook his hand, "Clara. Nice to officially meet you." Jack raised an eyebrow. She clarified, "I hear you helped Miss Dewitt Bukater from a dreadful end last night."

Realization dawned on Jack's face and he nodded. "You have no idea. Do you know her?"

"We've been friends since childhood," she explained.

He looked back and forth between Clara and Tommy, trying to figure out their dynamic. If she knew Rose, then it was odd for her to also know Tommy.

"How 'bout them angels now, eh?" Tommy asked Jack, who started laughing. Clara gave Tommy a confused look but he waved it off. "Clara here is a writer. She's also taking all my private information."

Clara elbowed him in the side playfully. "Only because you're the most interesting Irishman I've ever met."

"That's probably because I'm the _only_ Irishman you've ever met." The two shared a look and laughed.

"So Jack," Clara said, "have any good stories from your drawings you wouldn't mind sharing? Tommy's getting a big head with all this attention."

Jack was already busy with a new sketch, but he was more than willing to share about the French women he drew in Paris. He showed the nude drawings to go along with it, causing Clara to blush. Tommy let out a slow whistle at the drawings, but only to tease Clara.

"It seems like you know plenty about us, lass," said Tommy. "Why don't you tell us about yourself?"

"You know that I'm on my way home from school in England and that I want to be a writer," she countered. She thought for a second. "My father is involved in the steel industry."

"Wait… like one of the Pittsburgh steel giants?" Jack asked.

Clara nodded and gave a weak smile. "He's _the_ Pittsburgh steel giant. Reynolds Steel."

"No kidding. I hopped a few of those coal trains when I was on the East coast for a spell," Jack laughed.

"I'll be sure to tell the engineer to not kick you off next time," Clara said. "Actually, _Titanic_ was made with my father's steel."

Tommy looked impressed. "You mean to tell me that without your father, this ship wouldn't have been built?"

"Not exactly… but in a way I am the family ambassador for the trip," Clara said.

"You hear that, Jack?" Tommy asked, hitting his friend on the arm. "We're sitting with the queen of this damn ship!" He stood up and bowed deeply, cracking himself up.

Clara laughed, too. "I should have you kissing my feet."

Tommy took off his hat and held it to his chest. "I'd do anything for you, Queenie."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Actually, Jack, this might be interesting to you. You know that Rose is engaged?"

"Don't remind me," Jack mumbled.

"Her fiance is the son of one of my father's competitors. So naturally Cal and I are enemies."

"Seems like you and I have something in common after all." Jack looked down at his sketchbook, obviously trying to distract himself from thinking about Rose's engagement. He started drawing again in silence. Clara and Tommy exchanged a glance. Tommy gave her a reassuring smile, but she still felt awkward for bringing it up.

The three fell silent with Jack and Clara focusing on their respective hobbies. Tommy lit a fresh cigarette and sat patiently with the two of them. He tried making sense of his new friendship with Clara and why she was so set on spending time with him. He liked to think this wasn't something she did out of pity or charity. She wouldn't have been so invested in his personal life if this was something to ease boredom. It would likely end when they arrived in New York, but that didn't stop Tommy from hoping it would be more than platonic. And from what he gathered from Clara's behavior, she wasn't opposed. She returned his flirtations and openly told him she wasn't engaged or anywhere close to it.

Tommy noticed Clara stifling a yawn. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

She shook her head. "Far from it. I might need to go close my eyes for a while, though. I can't be sleepy throughout dinner."

He nodded and stood with her. "I'll walk with you as far as I can. Can't let the queen walk alone should something dreadful happen." He offered her an arm and she took it.

"It was lovely meeting you, Jack," Clara said.

"You too," he said. He tore out a paper from his sketchbook and handed it to her. "I don't usually do this, but I thought you might like it."

It was a sketch of Clara and Tommy sitting together and sharing a laugh. It must have been after one of Tommy's lines because he was looking right at Clara, who was smiling and blushing at her notebook. Jack even captured the swirl of smoke coming from Tommy's cigarette. After seeing the drawing, Tommy hummed contentedly.

"Jack, this is incredible. You're really good," Clara said. "Thank you."

Jack waved it off. "If you can make this grumpy Irishman smile, then you deserve the proof."

Clara slid the drawing between the pages of her notebook. It was not something she wanted to lose. "Thank you again, Jack. I'll see you around." Tommy and Clara walked the direction Clara had come from earlier.

"I had a wonderful day with you, Tommy," Clara said as they approached the gate. "Thank you for sitting with me."

"I'm glad you were able to write more. Do you think you'll come back?"

"I will tomorrow, definitely. But I'm not sure about tonight. Can't escape forever," she shrugged.

"Not even for a party?" Tommy asked, a spark in his eye.

Clara raised an eyebrow. "A party?"

"A bunch of us get together every night. It's loud and crowded, but I'll be damned if you don't have a good time," he said.

"And you'll be there?"

"'Course. Someone's gotta be the queen's protection."

She shook her head back and forth, pretending to think it over and teasing Tommy. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Meet me here after your dinner. Now go get your rest, Queenie." He held the gate open for her and she crossed. It felt oddly symbolic, as if she was actually crossing into a different world and leaving him behind.

"Goodbye, Tommy. I'll see you in a few hours," Clara said before walking away.

Clara thought of Tommy the whole walk back to her stateroom. She'd be lying if she said he didn't interest her. He knew how to have a conversation with a woman like a peer, unlike other men who only talk about their successes in order to impress her. Usually when she mentioned her father's business, all that would lead to was an emphasized attempt to win her over. But with Tommy, all it resulted in was a nickname. Tommy was ignorant to hidden social cues that she had been taught to see like a bright red sign. It was a breath of fresh air for Clara to not have to worry about such things around Tommy and simply be herself.

Molly was sitting in their main room when Clara entered. She looked up from her book and smiled. "There you are. Did you finish writing your book or something? You were gone long enough."

Clara set her notebook on the table where they had breakfast. "Not exactly. But I did catch quite a few stories to write about later." She undid her hair and ran her fingers through it, massaging her scalp. "I don't know why we have to do our hair all the time. It gives me headaches having pins stick into my head all day."

"You can always wear your hair down at dinner if you need to," Molly suggested.

Clara scoffed. "What, and have Ruth glare me down the entire time for being _relaxed_? The horror: a woman isn't properly dressed up."

Molly laughed. "Are we sure you're not my daughter instead of my brother's daughter?"

"I'm going to lie down for a bit before dinner. Will you wake me with an hour until we leave?" Clara waited for Molly to nod before heading to her room.

Upon getting ready for dinner, Clara decided to leave her hair down. She pinned it half back to keep it from being an actual mess, but having it down gave her and Molly an inside joke. She changed into a dark green dress laced with gold hems and beading. Matching the ensemble with a necklace that looked like it was made out of golden leaves intertwined together, she wondered if it would be too much when she joined Tommy later on for the party. _He's Irish_ , she reminded herself. _He'll like the green_.

Clara and Molly sat with a new crowd that night. Molly hadn't seen Ruth steer her party away from the two of them when they entered the dining room, but Clara had. It wasn't a secret that Molly was a bit too brash for what was deemed appropriate, and it also wasn't a secret that Ruth had a very low tolerance for that behavior. Nonetheless, Clara didn't mind not sitting with them. It was only when she caught Rose glancing her way that Clara felt sorry about it. She made eye contact with Rose and offered her a small smile, which Rose returned. Cal followed Rose's gaze. He quickly brought Rose into the discussion to distract her, but he still held intimidating eye contact with Clara. It took everything within her to not stick her tongue out at him. She gave a sour look until he looked away. Clara wanted to speak with Rose to see how she was doing after last night's incident, but it would have to wait for a more private time.

Dinner seemed to drag on. Clara tapped her foot impatiently on the table's base, counting each tap as a second and keeping track of how many minutes passed. Molly noticed her restlessness and gave her an odd look. Finally, dessert and coffee was served and Clara tried her best at being polite while eating quickly. The men dispersed themselves to finish the night with cigars.

"I'm going to take a walk around the deck. I need some fresh air before bed," Clara said, excusing herself from the table.

Molly nodded, "Sounds good, sugar. Take a coat and don't be out too late." Clara nodded in confirmation and gave her aunt a kiss on the forehead. "And don't come back smelling like smoke this time," Molly added as Clara began to walk away. She turned to catch her aunt's eye. Molly simply winked and smiled playfully. She knew something was up, but she trusted Clara to be safe and tell her in her own time.

Clara couldn't get down to E Deck any faster. She had a party to go to.

* * *

 **A/N: Nothing very exciting happening in this one, but I did want to get something out before the fun happens at the party! Thanks for reading! Drop me a review to send the love back. I'd love to know where I could develop. Obviously I know where more to the characters and plot than what the reader does, so let me know what questions I could answer or where things could get ~spicy~.**


	5. Chapter 5

Tommy waited patiently for Clara at the gate where he last saw her. He wasn't sure when she would be done with dinner, but he had still taken his time at his own. Her dinner was sure to be a larger and more drawn-out experience. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette and watched the exhaled smoke dance in the night air.

He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Clara, dressed in a green that matched a Christmas tree. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders. Tommy let out a slow whistle as she approached. "If I'd known an angel was coming to see me, I would've gone to church this morning."

"It's not Sunday," Clara countered.

"You got me." Tommy noticed her empty hands. "No notebook tonight?"

Clara spread her arms wide. "Nope. I wanted to fully embrace it. Unless you think I should go back?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I ain't letting go of you tonight." He held a hand out and she took it without hesitation. He led her down to the deck below where the third class bunk rooms were. "Sorry about the smell," he mumbled as they passed the washrooms. It was hard not to laugh when he glanced at her. She kept a composed face to remain polite, but it was clear this was an entirely new experience. The smell was almost overbearing, and she breathed through her mouth.

Clara smiled at him, almost reading his mind. "I'm fine." She squeezed his hand to emphasize his point. He liked the excuse to hold her hand tighter.

People spoke languages that Clara couldn't understand. Young children ran past them in the narrow hallway. A few older women did double takes at Clara, immediately recognizing her finer dress. She gave them a polite smile and they returned it. They could hear the music a hall away.

"Let me know if you need a break," Tommy said as he opened the door to the general room.

Clara grinned. "I can handle it."

Tommy was right; it was loud and boisterous. The room was crowded with people of all ages and background. A band was set up against a wall, made up of anyone who had brought an instrument onto the ship. People danced on a raised platform in front of the band. Tables surrounded the dancers. Those not dancing decided to smoke, drink and entertain themselves in other ways. Tommy led Clara down the stairs, and suddenly they found themselves in the midst of the crowd. A man passed them carrying two pints of stout. Clara eyed the beer and gestured Tommy toward it.

He raised an eyebrow. "You like beer?"

"Well I'll have to blend in somehow," she said.

Tommy laughed and led her to a table. "Don't go anywhere." He went off in search of their own pints.

With Tommy gone, Clara immediately felt vulnerable. He was her map in this uncharted land. The strangers around her seemed friendly enough. Still, she had no idea how to behave.

 _That's exactly it_ , she thought. _Forget how you're_ supposed _to act_.

Tommy reappeared then, handing her a glass. Clara eyed it carefully. "It looks bigger now that it's in front of me."

Tommy held his glass up, nodding toward hers. "Cheers," he said before taking a big gulp. Clara followed suit and let the drink go down her throat. She'd had alcohol before, but this was more bitter than anything she tried. Her face twisted in reaction to the taste. Tommy smirked. "Not your taste, Queenie?"

She stuck her tongue out in response and took another long gulp. Tommy laughed. "Now you're blending in."

Something across the room caught Tommy's eye and he waved. Clara turned to see a young Italian man and a young Scandinavian woman make their way toward their table. Tommy moved closer to Clara to allow room for the couple to sit with them. Tommy gestured to the man. "Clara, this is Fabrizio… and Fabrizio's friend."

"Helga," Fabrizio offered. Upon hearing her name, Helga extended a hand to Tommy and Clara.

Tommy took it, pointing to himself with the other, "Tommy." He pointed to Clara. "Clara."

The women shook hands and exchanged smiles. Helga said something to Clara that she couldn't understand.

"What?" Clara asked, leaning in.

Helga tapped her collarbone. " _Halskjede_."

Clara reached for her own collarbone and felt her necklace there. Helga nodded. Clara realized what she was saying. "Necklace?"

Helga shrugged to signal she didn't understand Clara, but she gave Clara an approving smile at the necklace. Clara grinned to say thanks and took another drink from her beer. For being in a situation she never thought she'd find herself, she felt right at home.

Clara and Tommy watched Fabrizio and Helga try to communicate. They used exaggerated hand motions and spoke louder with each word. Tommy laughed and leaned in close to Clara so she could hear over the commotion. He rested a hand on her lower back to steady himself. "It's rather fortunate we speak the same language, my dear."

"Easy for you to say. You're the one with the accent."

"I do not have an accent," he said with his best impression of an American accent.

Clara smirked, and they locked eyes. Suddenly they both realized how close they were. The weight of his hand at her back felt heavier now, but in a comforting way. Clara noticed how Tommy's brown eyes had the faintest hint of gold around the pupil. Freckles sprinkled his nose and cheekbones, a true mark of an Irishman. And under the freckles, a warm pink was growing. "Am I making you blush?" she asked quietly.

Tommy didn't answer. Instead he leaned closer until Clara could feel his breath on her skin.

Almost as if on cue, they were pulled from their trance by a loud bang at their table. They turned to see Jack placing a full pint glass on the table, looking sheepish for interrupting them without realizing early enough. Fabrizio gave Tommy an apologetic look and Helga held a hand in front of a knowing smile. Clara felt her heart drop when Tommy's hand fell from its place on her back. He turned away, cursing under his breath.

Fabrizio quickly started a conversation with Jack and Helga, moving the attention off Clara and Tommy. Clara awkwardly finished her drink as Tommy refused to look at her. She knew he'd come around in his own time, so she turned her attention to the other three. Helga looked lost as ever as Jack and Fabrizio entered into a friendly banter. Soon enough, the young men were arm wrestling. By this point, Tommy relaxed enough to enjoy the company around him but he was still hesitant to interact with Clara. The table watched as Fabrizio and Jack battled it out, cheering both men on. Jack finally pinned Fabrizio's arm down and let out a victorious whoop. As a consolation prize, Helga dragged Fabrizio to the dance platform. Both Clara and Tommy watched as they moved around between the other couples.

"How was the rest of your afternoon, Clara?" Jack asked, pulling her attention away from the dancefloor.

She shrugged. "Nothing too exciting."

He nodded. "And… dinner?"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "I didn't speak to Rose, if that's what you're wondering." Jack struggled to find an excuse, making the other two laugh. Tommy seemed at ease again, Clara noted, judging by the reappearance of his hand at her back.

Tommy finished the rest of his beer, as if summoning up courage, and held a hand out to Clara. "Dance with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, letting him pull her into the crowd just as the band was starting a new song.

The hand at her back moved to her waist, pulling her close to his chest. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. They quickly found the rhythm and joined the other couples moving about in a circle. Tommy flamboyantly spun and dipped Clara every chance he could. He was rewarded with laughs and squeals as she clung closer to him the lower he dipped her.

One song meshed with another, and the couples broke apart into two separate lines of men and women. The lines clapped as couples met up at the head and danced down the middle of them. Clara's stomach hurt from so much laughter, especially when Tommy threw her over his shoulder during their turn. Clara was sure it was equal parts euphoria and the beer that kept her from being irritated at that.

Tommy carried her back over to their table and placed her down. "I'll be right back."

Clara fanned herself as Jack came to sit next to her. He smirked at her. "So, Tommy Ryan, eh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Tommy's nuts about you," he said. "And from what I can tell, you're pretty close behind."

Clara pushed him on the arm. "I think you should mind your own business."

Jack laughed and gave the seat back to Tommy, who returned with two more beers. He handed one to Clara. "Gotta rehydrate after all that exercise." He took a large drink and Clara kept up with him.

The next hour flew by in a blur in dancing, drinking and fun. Clara tried her hand at a dartboard set up in a far corner of the room. Tommy took her back to the dancefloor, promising not to pick her up this time.

Both out of breath, Tommy led Clara away from the party and out to the fresh air. It was much cooler out on the exterior deck, with bright stars twinkling against the dark sky. The sound of waves against the ship and the low rumble from the steam towers replaced the loud cheers and music from inside. They were the only ones in sight. All was quiet.

Clara rested her forearms on the deck railing, looking out on the ocean. "I don't think I've had that much fun in my life," she said in between breaths.

Tommy leaned his back against the railing, watching Clara. Her eyes were closed. A light breeze blew her blonde hair from her neck and cooled the sheen of sweat on her forehead. "I'm glad you liked it."

Clara sighed and turned toward him. "Thank you for inviting me tonight."

Tommy moved closer. "I hope you got more material for your notebook."

"I don't have to write everything down," she said, looking down and avoiding eye contact. She remembered the intensity they shared earlier and she still hadn't decided how she felt about it.

Tommy put an arm around her waist. His other hand moved a lock of hair that stuck to her face. His fingers traced down to her chin, turning it toward his face. "Kiss me, Clara."

"You're drunk."

"No'm not."

" _No'm not_ ," she said, mimicking his slur. Tommy ignored the comment, and Clara could see him glance back and forth between her eyes and mouth. Clara's eyelids lowered as Tommy's face came near. His lips were on hers in an instant. Clara was overwhelmed with tobacco, cigarettes, delight and confusion. Her hands were on his chest and she didn't know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

In a flash decision, she settled for the latter. "We can't... _I_ can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" he asked. His eyes pleaded with hers.

"Because… I don't…" she stammered. Both the beer and Tommy created a fuzzy cloud in her head. "I don't know what's going to happen with this. With you."

"We'd figure it out," he suggested. "It doesn't have to end at New York." Clara continued to look away and stay quiet. Tommy felt his mood and heart drop as it dawned on him. "Do you think there's world where we'd end up together?" He spoke quietly, not wanting to know the answer.

Clara gave him a sad look. "Do you?"

He started to respond, then stopped himself. Tommy shook his head. "You don't make sense, Queenie."

"I make perfect sense," Clara said, taken aback.

"No, no you don't," he said. Angry hurt quickly replaced his heartbreak. "Why are you hanging out with me so much? I don't know everything about you, so maybe you're only entertaining yourself with me. But I'm no charity case."

Clara's mouth gaped open. "And what about you? Why are _you_ so keen on being with me? Am I just some brag to your buddies that you got to kiss someone from my status?"

"You don't have to keep reminding me that you're from a different world, Queenie."

The nickname that started as fond was now anything but. "You're the one yelling about charity cases."

"I wasn't yelling at you."

"Yes, you were!" Clara's voice raised.

"Well look who's yelling now."

"I am not yelling," Clara said. She was over this. _Whatever_ this _is_ , she thought. "I'm leaving."

She pulled out of his hold on her waist and walked away. Tears began to form and the last thing she needed was for Tommy to see. There were too many factors right now: the kiss, the beer, exhaustion, anger, hurt. She was confused at everything she was feeling, but she did know one thing. As Clara walked herself back to first class, she knew that Tommy was a few paces behind for as long as he could be.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait! I was in a rut after the last one, but I think I found my groove again. For those keeping track at home, we're now back on schedule with the film. It's now the day of Jack's first class dinner.**

* * *

Molly eyed Clara carefully at breakfast the next morning. Her niece had come into their suite late last night clearly upset, but she ignored Molly in the sitting room and went straight for her room. The faintest cloud of smoke trailed behind her. Now, Clara sat across from her, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. She stared and picked at her food silently. Molly didn't know whether to ask what was wrong, or stay quiet and let the young woman open up on her own accord. She opted for neither.

"Have any plans today?" Molly asked, peering over the rim of her coffee mug before taking a sip.

Clara looked up and blinked, as if suddenly remembering she wasn't alone. She shrugged. "Not yet. I might… spend some time on the promenade. I haven't really familiarized myself with this part of the ship."

"E Deck lose its appeal already?" Molly asked carefully.

Clara's face dropped and she looked down at her food again. "I just… I need a break."

Molly seemed to get the hint that Clara didn't want to delve into what made her upset. "Care if I join you? Seems like it's a sunny day."

Clara looked up at her aunt. Molly was clearly worried about whatever it was that bothered her. She came here to spend time with her aunt, and she hadn't filled that promise as much as she wanted. Plus, she didn't intend on seeing her usual company today. She wanted to clear her head and come to a decision before seeing him again. Clara smiled. "I'd like that."

"Wonderful," Molly said simply. The women quickly finished their breakfast and headed toward their individual rooms to get dressed.

* * *

Clara had hoped that a good night's sleep would clear her head after the events with Tommy the night before. She couldn't deny that she felt something for Tommy. She felt like herself with him, and the only other person she could say that about would be Molly. But any kind of romance with Tommy would have to be considered with what would happen once _Titanic_ docked. Their own upbringings couldn't be further apart. Even though Clara tried to separate herself from the gossip and frigidness of high society, it was what she was used to. Having to live a life like Tommy's- or somewhere in between- would be brand new territory.

Not to mention, falling in love was the last thing on Clara's mind when she boarded. First, she was here to represent her father's company and save face for those who worked closely with him. More importantly to Clara, though, was returning home to the United States in search of a career. Women having careers wasn't fully accepted across the board, and she had no idea what Tommy's ideas on the matter were. She didn't want to pursue anything if he expected her to sit idly at home while he worked all day.

Of course, she had already considered all of these points as she laid in bed the night before, and even now as she fixed her hair. The kiss still tingled on her lips, and the smell of his cigarettes lingered in her hair. She placed a fingertip to her mouth, hoping that would give her an answer. She didn't _mind_ kissing Tommy, after all.

She had questions. And the only person who could answer them was Tommy.

Deciding she was ready enough, Clara pushed away from the vanity. She grabbed her notebook before leaving her room. A movement in her periphery caught her eye; Jack's drawing of Clara and Tommy fluttered out of the pages and onto the floor. She picked it up, examining it again. Jack perfectly captured the joy in her soft laughter, and Tommy's eyes were full of admiration for her.

Looking at the drawing, Clara softened toward Tommy. She realized that even though she didn't know his family ideals, he still came from a working class. He was used to women having jobs, whatever they may be. He let her be her own person. She didn't blame him for kissing her and seeing something beyond their flirtations. There wasn't a doubt about their chemistry. He pursued her, and she had pursued him back. She still didn't know what she'd do, but she trusted that any decision that kept him in the picture would be safe.

Clara left the drawing on the table in her room and met Molly in the sitting room. Molly noticed Clara's change in attitude. She seemed more relaxed and at ease, which gave Molly great relief.

* * *

Clara and Molly cut through the dining saloon on their way to the promenade. Waitstaff cleared breakfast platters from those who chose to make the meal a social affair as opposed to staying in their staterooms. The staff weaved effortlessly around them, rearranging the room for lunch and afternoon tea coming in the next few hours.

Well-dressed couples passed by, giving the women polite smiles and nods. Clara recognized a handful of them, but no one stopped to talk. Clara suspected they only kept their distance because of Molly; had she been by herself, they'd no doubt approach her and ask about her parents or compliment her father's success.

 _It's just as well_ , Clara thought.

The women found a pair of deck chairs sitting in the light of the warm morning sun and took a seat. Clara placed her notebook beside her, wanting to write eventually but didn't want to come off as ignoring Molly. They settled into their chairs, taking in the late morning air and watching other passengers walk past.

"Are you excited to see your parents?" Molly asked. "It's been a while."

Clara hesitated; Molly didn't know about her plans to stay in New York City. In all honesty, Clara didn't think of her parents much. She loved them, yes, but she hadn't been close with them growing up. Her father was always busy with this or that, and her mother kept a busy social calendar. As a child and young girl, Clara would sit quietly with her mother and their guests, not saying much unless someone directed conversation toward her. Most of her days were spent reading books or playing with her nanny in the garden, only seeing her parents at dinner. By the time she was sixteen, Clara was so sick of boredom that she did her research on studying abroad. Her parents agreed to send her to England, so long that she come back ready to be married. She was used to being on her own.

"Father visited a few times when he traveled overseas, but Mother never did. So yes, it has been a while," she gave a small nod. "You're going west, right?"

Molly nodded, "To Colorado. James can hardly keep his head on straight with all the commotion of the oil and his mine."

"Give him my best. I miss him," Clara said. She had fond memories of her uncle and aunt visiting. James was a cowboy through and through, always dressed in leather and cowhide, with flashy turquoise and silver accessories on his belt and tie. He had a loud personality similar to Molly's, and they were perfect together. "How did you and Uncle James meet?"

"He was working in a mine in Louisville. My girlfriends and I liked to head to that part of town, as well as the rail yards, to see what strong fellas we could catch. 'Course, I spotted him the first time that we went to the mine, so I made a point to go there more than the others. He recognized me once and made a point to come over and introduce himself. We hit it off right away. The rest is history."

Clara laughed. Of course Molly would meet her husband by going out and getting one herself. "When did you realize you loved him?"

Molly paused a moment as she considered the question. "I guess it wasn't as much an exact moment as it was getting more and more used to him in my life. He was my best friend, my other half. Being next to him made me feel whole. Still does." She smiled at the thought of her husband.

"Did money ever scare you?"

Molly shrugged. "We grew up with similar backgrounds. I mean, you know what your father's childhood was like. We didn't pinch pennies, but we definitely had to be thrifty and wise. I think James and your father had similar mindsets when it came to their adult life and reaching success. So we were both used to being smart with our finances, and then God blessed us with that gold in his mine. Of course, your father was already more than a decade into his empire by then. He's really proud of himself, he is. Knows he's done good providing for his women."

Clara nodded. Her father always worked tirelessly. Because of her mother's fortune, they weren't considered new money like Molly. She grew up knowing high society. Her mother helped her father navigate the rough waters of this world. But together, they made it work, just like Molly and James did in their different situation. Clara contemplated Molly's words.

Molly glanced at Clara. Her niece was deep in thought, clearly figuring something out. She sighed, finally asking what she had known all along. "You're not going back to Philadelphia, are you?"

Clara's head snapped up. Molly had a suspicious look about her. "How did you know?"

"You've hardly spoken a word about your parents or home since I picked you up at school. Your interest has been divided between your notebook and E Deck."

Clara sighed in defeat. "It's just… Philadelphia isn't home to me anymore. It hasn't been for two years. Going back home to my parents is only going to spur a never-ending line of suitors, pressuring me into a life I don't want. I know how to be on my own now. I want to stay in New York and figure it out there. Or maybe I'll go west, like you. I don't know. Wherever I go, I want it to be on my terms."

Molly held up her hands. "No need to convince me. You seem set on the matter."

"Don't tell my parents?" Clara asked, trying not to sound too begging.

"I'll tell them you found a wild New York sailor who swept you off your feet." Molly winked and both women laughed.

 _Try an Irish fisherman_ , Clara thought.

Molly made a move to stand up. "I'll leave you to your notebook, then. Gonna head inside to see if there are any other gals I can meet up with." She headed off toward the dining saloon where tea was just ending.

Clara flipped to a new page in her notebook, deciding to write about her aunt. Molly had been one of Clara's closest confidants since she was a young girl. She was surprised she didn't already know more about her, so she was happy to listen to her stories. The time passed easily for Clara as she wrote about Molly, even pulling childhood memories with her: the two of them giggling over food stuck in her father's mustache; Clara's mother chastising her for speaking out of turn and Molly giving a comforting wink across the room; sneaking out of her bedroom late at night to meet Molly in the kitchen and steal slices of cake.

Clara basked in the solitude. She fell into a rhythm when she wrote alone. An hour passed before she stopped to give her hand a break. She closed her notebook and glanced around. The deck was plenty occupied by other passengers. She was surprised no one had come up to her to schmooze their way in with her father. She wasn't complaining.

A familiar laugh came from down a way and Clara craned her neck to see Rose walking with someone. Clara stood up, waiting for Rose to pass by. She wouldn't bring up Rose's incident in front of someone else, but she hadn't seen her since before then, so she wanted Rose to know she had a friend to talk to if need be.

Rose noticed Clara as they approached. "Hello, Clara!" she said rather happily. Clara was surprised to see Rose's upbeat mood.

"Hi, Rose," Clara replied. She glanced at Rose's companion and immediately recognized the blond boy. "And Jack." She eyed the two of them, surprised to see them together.

Rose's eyebrow raised. "You know each other?"

Had it been anyone else, Clara would've come up with a lie. But Clara could trust Rose to not spill secrets about deck-hopping, present company as an example. "I've been frequenting the lower decks to write."

Jack smirked. "That's what she calls it." Clara gave Jack a look of warning, and he quickly retracted. "We've run into each other down there. Seems we have a mutual friend," he joked again.

Rose seemed to piece together what he was alluding to. She gave Clara a knowing smile. "I see…"

Clara rolled her eyes. "What are you two up to this afternoon?"

"Oh, just familiarizing Mr. Dawson with the woes of our world," Rose mused.

"Ah, yes," Jack said. "The horror of a three-course dinner and hot water."

"Such a horror you'll be finding yourself in tonight," Rose countered.

"Are you coming to dinner?" Clara asked.

Rose nodded and glanced at Jack before replying. "Cal invited him the other night after… I'm sure you heard." Clara nodded in response to Rose's allude to the incident. It was hard to not notice Jack looking at his feet at the mention of Rose's fiance. "Will you and Molly mind sitting with us tonight, Clara?"

"We'd love to," Clara smiled. Having a few extra friendly faces to help Jack out in the snakepit was sure to ease the boy's nerves. "I'm heading back to my room now, but I'll see you both later."

They bid goodbye. As Clara passed, Jack called after her. "Be sure to bring your Irish friend."

Clara stuck her tongue out at the laughing duo as they walked away. She headed inside and toward her room. Her day away from Tommy still didn't do much to clear her head, but she had to say: the ship was rather boring without him.

* * *

 **A/N: Lots of background on our gal. The next chapter will be more fun than this! Our favorite Irishman is coming back. Be sure to review and let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

Clara sat at her vanity, her hair and stomach both in knots. She had yet to come to a decision regarding Tommy, but she planned on finding him that night after dinner, hoping that by then she'd know what to do.

Being with Tommy felt easy. He listened to her and encouraged her work, though she hadn't yet told him her plan for New York. He was charming, and the accent was a definite plus. He was easy on the eyes, too. Clara had taken notice of his friendly smile and kind eyes, not to mention the strong build from life on the farm.

But what happened once they weren't confined within the walls of the ship? When real world pressures and circumstances weighed in?

A soft knock came onto Clara's door, followed shortly by Molly's head peeking through. "Am I interrupting anything?" Molly asked.

"Nope. Just figuring things out. My hair, I mean," Clara said, quickly adding on that last part.

Molly paused for a moment, then stepped into the room and approached Clara. "May I?" Upon Clara's nod, her hands went to work: detangling the windswept curls, taming the flyways, and twisting locks every which way to make a sensible updo.

Clara closed her eyes. It felt wonderful to have someone else work on her hair. No one had done that for her in ages. Her mother used to always play with Clara's hair when she was little. Clara glanced at Molly in the vanity mirror's reflection. Molly was intensely focused on the task at hand, but she still had a small smile. Clara felt a sudden wave of emotion at Molly's tenderness and love. A lump formed in her throat. Molly glanced up and met Clara's eyes in the mirror. She gave Clara a quick wink, knowing what was on her mind and silently comforting her. Clara laughed; Molly could read her like a book.

As a finishing touch, Molly slid in a pearl hair comb. Happy with the end result, Molly squeezed Clara's shoulders. "There. Beautiful," she added.

Clara turned her head, seeing her hair from all angles. Molly had done it up in a bohemian-looking style with braids and twists of all sizes. She gave her aunt a hug. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, sugar," Molly said, sitting at the small table where Clara's notebook was. It was then that she noticed Jack's drawing. She stared at it for a second, glancing between the couple in the drawing and Clara in front of her. "Who's this?"

"Oh… a friend. He's in… he's in third class."

Molly's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Is that who you've been sneaking off to see?"

"Well, not today. But yes."

"Why are you avoiding him?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Because… just because. Things became really complicated. Logically, there's no way we could work in the real world." Clara said. Molly gave her a look, silently pushing her to confess. Clara sighed; her defenses were useless against Molly. "I'm scared. We get along just fine here, with no outside forces against us. But off the ship? I have no idea what could happen, how different we'd be. We have completely different backgrounds and I'm afraid that would be our fallout."

Molly gave her a sad smile. "But do you wish it would work?"

Clara sighed. "If you were anyone else, I'd say no. But… yes."

Molly came around to face Clara and squeezed her hands. "Then go to him. I'll tell you this. I've been on both sides of the aisle, and they both have their hardships. But if I've learned anything, it's that the people worth having around are the ones who don't have much themselves. And if he makes you smile like I see here," she nodded toward Jack's drawing, "you deserve each other."

Clara knew Molly was right. She nodded in agreement.

"You'll make the right choice. You've always had the determination to solve things for yourself. Don't fret." Molly gave her hands another squeeze. "I'm going to get dressed. You better fix up quick. We have a guest and he needs our help." She hurried out of the room.

Following her aunt's directions, Clara looked through her wardrobe. She decided upon one of her favorites: a dark blue evening gown with a nude chiffon overlay. The sleeves went to her elbows, with ribbons to keep it in place, but they draped opened throughout the upper arm. Because of the chiffon's sheerness, the dress had a dramatic, somewhat scandalous figure to it. Intricate beading on the bust and skirt gave it a touch of sparkle. She paired it with pearl earrings, a matching necklace and dark blue gloves. She thought of Tommy, wondering what he'd think.

Happy with her outfit, Clara went out to the sitting room to see who exactly this guest was. She was shocked to see Jack standing in front of the fireplace. Men's dress clothing was strewn about the room, covering just about every surface, including Jack. He was in a suit shirt and pants, only missing the jacket and tie.

"Jack?" Clara asked. "What are you doing here?"

He grimaced. "I was thinking the same thing." Jack shrugged. "Molly offered to let me borrow a suit. How do you know Molly?"

"She's my aunt."

"Seems like everyone here is connected somehow."

"We're purebreds. Gotta keep it in the family," she joked. Jack laughed, and it seemed like it was a nice break in his tense stance. He was obviously stressed about dinner. "So," Clara started, trying to get his mind off things, "can I ask you something?"

Jack fiddled with the pearl cufflinks. "Does it have to do with your Irishman you've been avoiding?"

She gave a small smile, confirming his suspicions. "Did you see him today?"

Jack nodded. "He seemed pretty down this morning. Haven't seen him since."

"We didn't leave on the best terms last night." Clara sat on the chaise lounge. "I didn't mean to hurt him."

"Are you gonna see him again?"

"I plan to tonight. Though he doesn't know that yet."

"Yeah? What are you gonna say?"

Clara shrugged helplessly. "I think I have an idea. I just… I don't know if…" she sighed. "Would it be ridiculous to stay with him when we get to New York?"

Jack sat next to her. "Are you asking me, or are you asking yourself?"

"Anyone, really," she answered.

"I don't really know you well enough to tell you what to do. And I don't really know Tommy a whole lot, either. But I bet that he'd go to hell and back if that meant you'd be in his life."

She glanced at Jack. His shoulders were still tense, and his leg bounced restlessly. "Speaking of going to hell and back, how's this for you?" she asked.

Jack let out a short laugh, then gazed around the extravagant room. "Not what I thought hell would look like."

Clara reached out and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You know there's a reason why she spends more time with you than with him, right?" The two of them shared a glance, considering the other's uplifting words. Jack gave her a small smile, relaxing just a tad.

Molly came in at that moment. Jack stood up for her inspection of his attire. She gave Jack a once-over, nodding firmly but adjusting his tie. Jack looked sheepish at the help. "Don't feel bad about it. My husband still can't tie one of these damn things after 20 years. There ya go," she said, finishing with his tie and handing him the accompanying jacket.

Jack left the room to finish getting dressed. Molly smiled at Clara. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you. It's nice of you to help Jack."

Molly shrugged. "Wasn't about to let the kid go blindly into the snake pit."

Jack returned to the room with his entire ensemble on. Clara couldn't help but drop her jaw and share an approving glance with Molly. Molly had a smug smile on, pleased with her work. "My, my, my ... you shine up like a new penny."

* * *

Jack sat between Clara and Molly at the dinner table, and he was quietly gracious for Molly's guidance throughout the three courses.. From Clara's observations, Rose seemed more dressed up than usual. Clara lost count of how many times Rose and Jack shared meaningful glances across the table.

Ruth was keen on asking him demeaning questions about his accomodations in the decks below and how on Earth he found his way to a ticket on the Titanic. He never faltered though, charming the crowd, all but Ruth and Cal, with his good humor and easy spirit.

"I figure life's a gift, and I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you," Jack said after a hefty refill of his champagne. He tossed a cigarette lighter across the table toward Cal, catching him off guard. "To make each day count."

"To making it count," Rose echoed, lifting her glass in a toast. The table joined in on the chorus, much to the displeasure of Ruth and Cal.

Jack's toast touched Clara. She knew it was meant to encourage Rose, but his genuine love for the jeopardy of life's adventures gave Clara the spirit of adventure she needed. She thought about Tommy and how he was the unexpected hand. Her heart leapt as she brainstormed her plan for the rest of the evening.

Dinner wrapped up soon after that, and Molly had the table howling with laughter over a story about her husband lighting a fire. The gentlemen then excused themselves to "congratulate each other on being masters of the universe," as Rose so put it in a mutter to Jack.

Clara watched Jack from her peripherals as he returned a pen to Molly. He kissed Rose's hand goodbye. Clara quickly stood up. "Ladies, I'll be turning myself in for the night," she said. "I've got a headache. It's for the best I catch up on my sleep."

She made eye contact with Jack. "I'll walk you out on the way. Wouldn't want you getting lost." She could tell that Molly, Rose, Jack and Ruth were all suspicious of her intentions, but she moved forward with her plan anyway.

Clara linked her elbow with Jack's, and the pair headed for the staircase. Jack stopped at the top of the stairs in front of the clock.

"If you don't mind, I'm gonna stay here a minute," Jack said. He raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to bed, are you?"

Clara shook her head slightly. "Like you said. Make it count."

Jack gave her a wink. "See you in a bit."

Clara laughed, leaving him behind as she silently snuck her way out of the grand room and down to the decks she was becoming all too familiar with. She followed the sounds of music and loud laughter all the way to the general room.

Just as it was the night before, the room was raucous with dancing, drinking and conversation. The dance floor wasn't quite full, but she was sure it would be in no time. She stood at the door of the room, scanning the crowd and catching Fabrizio's eye. He waved her over and she fought her way through to him and Helga.

"Do you know where Tommy is?" she asked.

Fabrizio smiled and nodded. He pointed toward a table halfway across the room. Clara thanked him and made her way over. Her stomach was a ball of nerves. After last night, she had no idea how he'd react to seeing her or hearing what she had to say.

Tommy was in the middle of an arm wrestling match. A cigarette dangled between his teeth as he grimaced from the game. He wore a simple white shirt with a matching brown vest and pants, and his signature bowler hat sat atop his curls.

Clara approached the table just as Tommy's opponent pinned Tommy's arm down with a victory whoop. Tommy shook his head, clearly disappointed in the loss. When he looked up, his scowl turned to hurt, then confusion and finally trepidation as he noticed Clara in front of him. The two were quiet for a moment as they took each other in.

Clara swallowed hard. "I'm here for you."

* * *

 **A/N: Wow wow wow, I did not mean to take a whole year to update this. However I think I've got my groove back, so I hope you all enjoy! Next chapter should be fun. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Tommy couldn't believe his eyes. Clara stood before him, with an almost breathless expression. He felt out of breath himself. Here she was, a vision in a blue so dark it resembled the ocean beneath them, and all she could say was, "I'm here for you."

Tommy blinked. He didn't know what to say, let alone think. After the way they left off the night before, he was certain that was the last he saw of her.

Clara once again broke the silence. "I'm here for you," she repeated. Clara thought she had planned what to say, and now she was forgetting all of it here with him. She took a deep breath. "You, Tommy Ryan, are the most fascinating man I've ever met. As well as the kindest. The gentlest. And I almost let you go. I know that we're practically strangers, but … I don't care right now. You asked if there was a world where we'd work together, and I don't know if that world exists yet. We'll have to make it ourselves. I just… want you. So… what do you say?"

As she finished, Tommy rose from his seat, towering over her. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss. And this time, she didn't hesitate to meet him. They ignored the whoops and hollers coming from Tommy's table. For one moment, the rambunctious energy of the general room melted away.

Tommy pulled away. "I say, _that_ should've been our first kiss."

Clara laughed. "We've got time to make up for it." Her stomach was in complete butterflies. "Can we step outside?"

Tommy grabbed her hand and led them out of the general room and out onto the breezy deck. Just as the night before, the deck was a stark contrast from the general room. Tommy led Clara to a bench, and they sat.

"This is where we sat that first night," Tommy said.

"Feels so long ago," Clara mused. She watched their intertwined hands. His fingers played with hers. "Last night… it wasn't fair of me to lash out like that."

"I'm not faultless either," Tommy offered.

"I didn't want us to get ahead of ourselves. I don't know what I'm doing."

"What do you mean?"

"What happens when we're off the ship? I've never been on my own. I wouldn't know where to start. And I wouldn't want to be burden to you."

"Clara, I've been on my own for a bit now. I know how to survive." Tommy wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in. Her head rested on his shoulder, and he kissed her hair. And I'd provide for you, for us. In no way would you be a burden to me. I'd give everything for you."

"You would?"

"Yes. I know it's only been a few days. But ever since we met, I haven't stopped thinking about you. You've brought a new spirit to me that I didn't know I could have. I know you're scared, and I understand why. We'd figure it out. Together. I'd work myself down to the bone if it meant I could come home to you each night." He kissed her head again and stroked her hair. His voice softened. "I want you as mine, Clara."

Chills ran down Clara's spine. "And I, you." she said. "Are we crazy?"

He shrugged. "That's why it's fun." Tommy's eyes glanced down her bodice. "I have to say… this gown… it's driving me crazy, Queenie."

"I hoped you would like it," Clara confessed. His thumb traveled slowly down her arm as he continued to stare. Clara broke them apart. "Come on, let's go back in before you push your luck again."

Tommy groaned, but he obliged. He took her hand and they made their way back toward the general room. Just outside the door, Tommy sneaked in one quick kiss before stepping inside.

Though they were only out for a few minutes, the room was livelier than before. The band, comprised of a piano, accordion, fiddle, drums and tambourine, stomped out a rhythm that enticed people to the dance floor. Tommy received pats on the back as they passed the table he was at earlier, which made Clara laugh. Tommy led them to a table and pulled out a stool for Clara. She settled in and was more than surprised to see who was across from her.

"Rose?" she asked incredulously, staring at the redhead. "What are you doing here?"

"Jack brought me," Rose answered. She was still dressed in her dark red dinner gown. She smiled, full of light and joy. "And what are you doing here?"

Clara glanced at Tommy as he sat down next to her. "I'm making it count," she said, quoting Jack's toast from earlier that evening. Rose understood, smirking at the couple in front of her.

"So you're Jack's gal," Tommy said. He stretched a hand across the table. "Tommy Ryan."

"Rose DeWitt Bukater." She shook his hand.

"You ladies thirsty?" Tommy asked. He didn't wait for an answer though and went off in search of refreshments.

Rose smirked at Clara. "Who's that?" Rose asked. "He's very handsome."

"We met on the first day. He's … incredible. I'm afraid I'm starting to fall in love with him." Clara surprised herself at that last part. The words came out effortlessly, yet they felt true.

Rose nodded and looked at the dance floor. "Sometimes it's too easy."

Clara followed her gaze. Rose laughed and clapped along as she watched Jack dance with a little girl. Tommy returned with pints of beer for the whole table. Rose hardly noticed as she continued to watch Jack dance.

As the song drew to a close, Jack pulled Rose from the table and onto the dance floor for the next song. While she initially hesitated at not knowing the steps, she soon got the hang of it. The two practically floated on the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Clara and Tommy were perfectly happy cozying up at the table. He had an arm wrapped around her waist and she leaned into his warmth.

"I have to tell you something," Clara said quietly.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Another grand speech?"

Clara took a deep breath. "I'm a writer. I want to write. And get paid for it."

"That explains the notebook. Do you mean like an author?"

"Like a reporter. I want to be a reporter in New York. " She glanced at Tommy. He nodded for her to continue. "More women are getting reporting jobs and I want to be like that. And I need you to be comfortable with me having a job."

Tommy was quiet for a moment as he thought over her words. A twinkle came to his eye. "Never thought I'd see the day when the Queen had to get a job."

Clara laughed. "So you wouldn't mind if I worked?"

Tommy shook his head. "Not one bit." To emphasize his point, he kissed her on the cheek.

Clara felt content. While she had no way of predicting the future, she knew everything would be just fine with him at her side. Satisfied, Clara took a long drink of her beer and Tommy followed suit.

"Thing is, Queenie," Tommy said, "if you're going to be a working class gal, you better start acting like one."

Before Clara could say anything, he whisked her away to the dance floor where they joined Jack and Rose. The dancers rollicked as the band kicked up another song. Clara recognized most of the dance from the night before, so she quickly fell into rhythm. It wasn't long before Jack and Rose cleared a space and the two spun around and around as the crowd watched.

The evening continued in a blur of dancing, drinking and entertainment. At one point, Rose showed off her years of ballet training while the men gaped in awe. She tumbled into Jack's arms after losing her balance, and their romance was clear to everyone in the room.

Meanwhile, Tommy and Clara romanced in a corner of the room. She perched on his lap, and his arms held her at the waist. Her stomach hurt from his jokes. In between her giggles, Tommy found a new freckle on her cheekbones to kiss. Had they been up in first class, Clara would avoid this public affection at all costs. But in the general room, with all the unbridled camaraderie, no one batted an eye.

"Have you ever been in love?" Clara asked quietly.

One of his hands traced up and down her back as he thought through his answer. "At the time, I thought it was love. We were young. Her brother and I were classmates in primary school. But soon enough, I had to spend more time on the farm and she ended up marrying someone else in another town. I wouldn't know where she is or what she's doing now. But I do wish her the best."

Clara nodded. "That's sweet of you to say."

"And what about you, lass? Any English gentlemen sweep you off your feet?"

Clara shook her head. "None in particular. It was perfect timing to leave for school and avoid my parents marrying me off to God knows whom." She gently tugged on one of his curls and smiled. "All for the best though."

"Tell me about your parents," Tommy said.

"I haven't seen much of them in years. And even before I went to England, they were distant. Neither of them were home much, my father with work and Mother with her social life."

"It's a shame they don't know you better," Tommy said.

Clara shrugged. "I've never been that sad about it. It was just… how life was for them. And anyways, I've got my aunt."

"The one who's on the ship, right?"

She nodded. "I think in another life we were sisters. She's my best friend. I think she'd like you."

"I'd love to meet her."

Clara's eyes lit up. "Come to lunch tomorrow!"

Tommy was taken aback. "What?"

"Come have lunch with me and Aunt Molly tomorrow. After church. It could be just us three in our stateroom."

Tommy hesitated. "I don't know, Clara. It's one thing for you to come down here, but me up there?"

Clara shook her head. "Aunt Molly doesn't care. She'll love you. Please?"

She was so eager and excited. Tommy couldn't say no. "All right. Anything for Queenie."

"Thank you. Don't be nervous." Clara kissed him. "I don't want to go back."

His arms tighten around her waist. "Then don't."

"I should."

"But you don't have to."

As badly as Clara wanted to take him up on his suggestion, she knew she needed to keep up _some_ appearances. "Yes, I do." She stood and pulled Tommy up. "Come on. Walk me back."

They walked slowly toward her gate. The boisterous sounds from the general room soon melted away to the waves lapping against the ship. They reached the gate and neither made any move to open it.

"Thank you for coming tonight, Clara," Tommy said.

"Not doing so would've been my biggest regret," Clara replied.

"Mine is still hurting you last night," he admitted. "I never want you to cry, least of all about me."

She placed a hand on his cheek. "Don't think about that. That was last night. This is now." She reassuringly kissed him. One of his hands cupped her chin, and the other went to her back to pull her in. She tangled a hand in his curls. Out of all the kisses they shared tonight, this one was different. This one put any tense memory of the night before to rest. This one promised a tomorrow, a day for the both of them together.

Clara wasn't sure if she felt his heart beating against her chest or if hers was pounding that hard on its own. She pulled away, once again breathless before him.

"Do you think you're in love now?" Tommy whispered, still holding her close.

"Yes," Clara said just as quietly.

"Me too." He placed a small kiss on her forehead, and his lips lingered for a moment. "Me too."

Clara hesitantly pulled away. "I'll meet you here tomorrow morning? Around 11?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Tommy replied. "Should I, you know, dress up? Because... " Tommy awkwardly looked down at his current outfit, "this is about as nice as it gets."

"I'll bring you something. Molly's likely to have a jacket you could borrow." She smiled. "Don't be nervous. Goodnight Tommy."

"Goodnight, love," Tommy said. He watched her go until she disappeared back into her world.

Settling into his cramped bunk, Tommy wished Clara was in it with him. Not for intimate reasons, but only to hold her close as she slept. No fancy hairstyle, clothes or jewelry. Just Clara as she was.

Tommy couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found Clara. Or rather, she found him. One misplaced suitcase and now here he was days later, falling in love with a woman he swore was actually from Heaven above.

He wished he could tell his parents about her. They would've adored her. Tommy usually thought that their kind of love was impossible, but now he knew he had a chance at it, too.


End file.
